


Naturally Alluring

by Titty_Now_Titty_Later (orphan_account)



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, M/M, Model, Underwear, Underwear models
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Titty_Now_Titty_Later
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 5 - Celebrities, photoshoots, models</p><p>Rin is a sassy model who gets on Haru's nerves. They both hate that the company always seems to put them in shoots together, except maybe not that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naturally Alluring

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Mengen! Love you, you turd <3 Any mistakes are mine and my own.
> 
> Thanks to someone in RH chat (I'm sorry I can't remember your URL) for the idea of underwear models. I wrote this one for you, bby.

Rin smirked at Haru from across the whitewashed room, bare-chested with his button-up hanging languidly from his fingers. "Should have known you'd get called in, too," he said, not bothering to greet him.

Haru didn't even bother to roll his eyes. "You know they like us together," is all he said, turning so his profile was facing Rin. He didn't care one way or another who he modelled with, but it was always annoying when the company put him and Rin in the same room.

"Got something to hide?" Rin jibed, working the fly on his pants. "It's not like you to be so..." Haru could feel his eyes wandering up and down his form, but refused to move. "...Conservative," Rin finished.

Haru levelled a glare from the corner of his eye but continued to strip his clothes, refusing to answer. 'What an annoying guy,' he thought, dropping his shirt on the ground and working off his pants. Wearing only his briefs, he made his way to the dressing tables, where one of the assistants was starting Rin off on one pile of the underwear to be modelled. Another rushed forward for Haru, handing him the top piece in a pile of purple and blue.

"I get they think we look good together," Rin muttered, "but it's so annoying, having to work with a guy like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Haru asked, voice snapping out before he thought to ignore the comment. Rin always managed to get under his skin, somehow.

This time, he turned his head to glare at Rin full-on, jaw twitching. Rin wasn't looking, was turned away pulling his underwear off and stepping into the burgundy boxer briefs. Haru glared at his shoulders, refusing to let his eyes wander.

"All I'm saying is," Rin huffed, snapping the waistband against his skin, "is that I don't work well with you. Don't read too far into it."

Haru narrowed his eyes at Rin, who tossed a sharp-toothed grin over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about that, though. I'm a professional."

Haru _tsk_ ed and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, pulling them down and lazily stepped out, tugging at the deep purple thong before stepping into it, sliding the fabric up his toned legs. It barely covered what it was meant to, but that seemed to be the way these kinds of shoots went. ‘These kinds’ referring to the ones he shared with Rin, of course. Too many, in Haru’s muted opinion.

“Haru, have you got makeup yet?” the director for the shoot called from across the room, cutting off whatever conversation he’d been having with the photographer about the more technical nature of the shoot. Haru glanced over his shoulder and nodded. It wasn’t as though he’d come late because he was unprepared, after all.

Rin sauntered past him to the scene for the shoot, running his hand back through his hair, to the eternal irritation of whatever hairdresser had spent an hour trying to make it look perfectly tousled. Not that Rin’s touch changed that, really. Haru had wondered on occasion if he even _had_ a hairdresser, the way his hair seemed effortlessly silky, a naturally alluring mess on his head. Haru had been in the business for almost two years. He knew there was no such thing as ‘naturally alluring’. But something about Rin always made him wonder.

Finally, he dragged himself to follow, standing stoically beside the other model with his hands planted low on his hips, both looking towards the photographer for directions. The photographer had Rin slouch and rest his arm on Haru’s shoulder, capturing a lighting test image while Haru glanced off to the side, Rin baring his teeth in a grin while he offered a jibe.

“So tense, Haru. You should loosen up. It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve been this close.”

“Don’t say suggestive things like that,” Haru muttered, turning again to glare at Rin, their faces mere inches apart from how close the photographer had urged them. Neither dared move away though, fearful of incurring the wrath of the director. Another photo was snapped and Haru sighed, eyes darting away from the glare.

“Worried people might think things?” he teased, moving with the photographer’s directions to stand behind Haru, looping his arms over his shoulders and clasping his wrist over Haru’s chest. Haru’s hand came up to grasp his forearm, ignoring the way Rin’s body curled around his, his breath brushing behind Haru’s ear.

Haru hoped the light blush on his cheeks would be hidden by the makeup and closed his eyes, letting a silent sigh slip past his lips. The shutter clicked. It was always so much work, doing a shoot with Rin. Technically they weren’t meant to be speaking. Haru had no idea why the directors always let Rin get away with it, or why the photographers didn’t scold him. Haru wished someone would, one day. Just tell him to _shut the hell up._

“I wouldn’t peg you as someone who worried about that sort of thing,” Rin breathed against the shell of his ear and Haru’s eyes snapped open, his lips still parted. He was staring right at the camera and saw the flick of the shutter closing in the lens. He tried to shrug it all off. This was _Rin,_ for god’s sake; notorious for making models’ lives hell. “As long as _you_ know it’s not true it’s fine, and all that,” Rin murmured, and Haru’s grip on his forearm tightened momentarily before the photographer gestured for them to turn around and stand side by side.

Of course, Rin had to make it interesting. Haru wished he would just do his job and no more, but the hand that was meant to be curled around Haru’s waist slipped down, hooking into the waistband of Haru’s thong at his hip. Haru glared at the troublemaker for what he determined to be the last time, to find Rin smirking at him with a raised eyebrow, taunting him to do something about it. Haru considered breaking his fingers, but turned the idea down as bad practice. Rin was one of the company’s most valuable assets, after all. Haru was sure they wouldn’t be happy with him forcing one of their stars into a cast and out of shoots for a month or longer. So he restrained himself to digging his fingers into Rin’s waist, making him yelp and twist.

Haru’s quiet amusement wasn’t allowed to last long, however. The two of them were quickly shooed to the dressing tables again, where they stripped and pulled on the next set of underwear, this time a matching pair of briefs, maroon and navy blue.

“Man, what is with this colour scheme?” Rin muttered, pulling off the last pair and tossing them somewhere to the right for someone else to deal with. Haru firmly kept his eyes to himself while Rin tugged up the next pair, snapping the waistband again.

“It’s your fault,” Haru muttered, copying his movements. “It’s not like there’s a whole spectrum that suits red.”

“Oi, don’t peg this on me! I’ve been in plenty of shoots with different palettes than red and blue. If anything, it’s you. Blue eyes aren’t exactly common,” he snapped, shooting a glare Haru ignored through sheer force of will.

Instead he raised an eyebrow, as though to say, ‘What, and red eyes are?’

Rin rolled his eyes, reading the unspoken comment. “No need to be a smart ass,” he muttered, heeding the call of the director to hurry things up.

Haru made a quiet, incredulous sound, but one Rin heard, nonetheless. Haru could almost hear the second eye roll as he followed Rin back to the set, where the photographer was directing Rin to sit on the sofa draped with a white faux fur blanket. He then called Haru to sit on the arm of the chair, one leg hanging while the other curled up to his chest, his arm resting over his knee.

“Hey Haru,” Rin said, and Haru’s head turned to look at Rin, below him in the seat of the chair, a second before they heard the shutter snap. “Why _do_ you hate working with me so much?”

Haru, taken aback by the question, remained still for a moment, and the photographer took the opportunity to take another picture. Eventually, sensing no ulterior motive he could think of, he answered simply, “I don’t.”

Rin’s expression was suspicious while he stood, following the urges of the photographer. Haru followed, turning his back to the camera and curling his arm around the front of Rin’s waist, Rin doing the same for him while facing the photographer. Haru’s head turned to watch Rin’s face while the photographer got what he needed from that pose. Eventually Rin met his eyes, head tilting down the barest angle to compensate for the few centimetres’ difference in their heights. That one piece of hair slipped from behind Rin’s ear and fell in front of his eyes. Haru wanted to brush it away, maybe reassure himself it wasn’t as soft as it appeared, but neither of the dared to move when the photographer snapped at them to remain how they were.

There was still suspicion in Rin’s eyes; Haru could read it well. Rin was transparent when it came to his emotions. Haru didn’t let anything slip past a perfectly blank mask, watching thoughts cross Rin’s face as they crossed his mind. Before Rin could contrive something witty to say, as Haru could see him gathering himself to do, the director shooed them off to get changed for the last set, muttering something about how ‘Nanase always leaves us behind schedule’. Haru ignored his huffing and stepped past Rin, heading back towards the dressing tables. He heard him follow, after a moment.

Haru’s last set was a pair of silky blue boxers, which he slipped on easily. Rin was still silent, so he decided to ask his own question. “Why don’t _you_ like working with _me?”_ he asked, more for Rin’s sake than his own. He didn’t particularly care for the answer, but the boisterous model’s sudden silence set him on edge and he felt the need to rectify it as soon as possible. He glanced at Rin, waiting for him.

A quick frown crossed Rin’s face and he paused with his briefs around his ankles before stepping out of them and pulling the purple jockstrap up, adjusting everything so it fit with his back half-turned to Haru. “That one actually is your fault,” he finally muttered, shooting a quick glare at Haru from the corner of his eye. Haru fought to not respond in a like manner, keeping his face devoid of taunt. It was difficult. “I like working with guys I can talk to,” he said, turning around and waking to the set. “So it’s not really that I don’t like working with you; it’s just that I don’t like working with guys who glare at me through the whole shoot.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to, if you didn’t say such stupid things,” Haru muttered, tagging along behind him. Rin snorted a laugh that sounded awfully close to bitter. It stuck in Haru’s mind. Rin’s laugh was normally annoying, but this one caught on Haru’s nerves, for some reason.

This time, it was Haru who the photographer directed to sit on the couch. Rather than have Rin sit on the arm, as he had Haru, he directed Rin to drape himself over the arms and on Haru’s lap. Haru considered glaring at Rin when he moved to comply, but instead decided on sighing, leaning back in the chair to allow Rin to lay over him. His hands were directed to rest on Rin’s knee, hanging over an arm of the chair, and his stomach, just above where Rin’s own hand lay.

“Jeez, is this for an underwear shoot or a calendar?” Rin muttered when he was instructed to tuck his other hand behind his head.

Haru huffed out a single laugh and said under his breath, “Still haven’t figured out the difference.” It forced a surprised chuckle from Rin, and Haru felt a moment of pride, having taken Rin off-guard.

“Still wondering why you hate doing shoots with me so much,” Rin commented through the click of the camera.

“I don’t,” Haru repeated, frowning at Rin’s knee. He’d said this already, why did he need to say it again? “You’re the one who said we don’t work well together,” he reminded.

“Cause every shoot I have with you is the most awkward thing I’ve experienced in modelling,” Rin reasoned, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Haru, who shrugged off his scrutiny.

Finding no way to defend himself, Haru sighed and repeated, “I don’t hate it.”

Rin, however, was still doubtful and remained that way until the shoot was finished and they were changing back into their own clothes.

Haru had pulled up his jeans and was buckling the belt when another loud sigh sounded from behind him. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance. There was really only so much melodrama he could take in one day. “Rin,” he said, voice low and serious. He paused a moment to ensure Rin was listening. _“Shut up,”_ he muttered, picking his shirt up from the table and turning around to Rin, who had stopped buttoning his shirt to pay attention. “I don’t hate working with you,” he repeated _again_ and, before the relieved expression on Rin’s face could become too endearing, he added, “but if you keep sighing dramatically like that, I won’t regret saying I hate _you.”_

Rin’s face fell again, every disappointed emotion clear as day. “Do you hate me?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Trying. Failing.

‘For the love of god.’ Haru’s eyes narrowed in irritation and he reached out with his spare hand to grip Rin’s unbuttoned shirt. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was planning on doing until he was kissing him, their lips pressed together hard and dry.

Rin gave a surprised yelp into Haru’s mouth and Haru backed off, holding him a bare inch away with his hold on the shirt.

“I don’t hate you,” he growled, glaring at Rin, filled to the brim with irritation and a pounding heart. He released Rin’s shirt and straightened from where he’d been leaning in slightly, stepping around the dumbstruck young man as though it was nothing. As though he hadn’t just kissed him. As he made towards the door, Haru tugged his shirt over his head.

He was nearly at the door when he heard a frenzied, “Wait, Haru – wait up!” from behind him. He smirked to himself and slowed his pace slightly, not needing to look over his shoulder to see Rin hurrying to catch up, buttoning his shirt as he dashed towards Haru. A hand caught his shoulder and spun him, the immediacy of Rin’s lips on his knocking the breath out of him in the form of a name. _“Rin,”_ he huffed, a warm chuckle that didn’t belong to him filling his mouth.

‘Fuck it,’ Haru thought, and brought one hand up to twist in Rin’s collar, pulling him closer. The other brushed through his hair, feeling the silk strands under his wired nerves. Haru’s fingers wove in with the shorter hairs at the back of Rin’s head, something, somewhere in his mind, wondering that maybe there _was_ such thing as being ‘naturally alluring’.


End file.
